


grow, tiny seed

by kara (kara_v_is_me)



Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon & Comics)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brotherly Angst, Edelwood Trees, Frog - Freeform, Spoilers - Over the Garden Wall, The Unknown (Over the Garden Wall), Trees, in which Greg becomes an edelwood tree, minor injury, otgw - Freeform, over the garden wall au, tree - Freeform, wirt stays in the unknown
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:42:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29809986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kara_v_is_me/pseuds/kara
Summary: The dreaded winter finally departed the Unknown, making room for the springtime. Yet Wirt still feels so cold. It had been six months since Greg was claimed by the Beast and turned into one of his horrid Edelwood trees, and Wirt couldn't bear going home without his little half-brother. Especially after he had treated his brother when he was human. Now, the teenager is looking after the little tree-- and it's only a matter of time before the Beast will come to grind him up for his lantern. Luckily, Beatrice and her family are there to help Wirt. His continuous journey through the Unknown won't be easy. Especially knowing his little brother won't be there to journey with him.(summary may change later)
Relationships: Beatrice/Lorna (Over the Garden Wall), Sara/Wirt (Over the Garden Wall)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	1. springtime

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this is my first story on ao3, and it probably won't be my last. but this follows the events of the Unknown, in which Greg turns into an Edelwood tree and Wirt stays behind to protect him from becoming grinded up as fuel for the Beast's lantern. just a little AU I came up with :)) (probably not the first edelwood tree!Greg tho). im not the best at writing, but!! this was very fun to write <3 comments and kudos are appreciated!! ENJOY READING!!
> 
> word count : 2,633

Sunlight filtered through the trees. It was a beautiful day. 

The long winter had finally passed in the Unknown, the ice thawing on the ground, the frost melting. It dripped from the branches, feeding the flowers below. Birds called in the distance. White clouds rolled over the forest, promising wind, but also nice weather. Spring had sprung. It was warm. 

A drop of water rolled off of a branch, and landed square on the teen's forehead. He stirred from his nap, waking up to the blue sky above him. He sat up, joints creaking from the stiff position that he laid in. He was still for a moment, gazing around the clearing he was in, before finally rising. He picked up the watering can that lay at his feet, shaking it to hear the water rolling around against the metal. He didn't know exactly why Beatrice's mother had given him the watering can-- "Your brother will get thirsty in the sun!"-- it seemed useless to water the small stump of a tree sticking up from the ground. It was more alive than ever, but also... it felt cold. 

He turned to the tree now, and crouched down so he was eye level with his brother. The tree stared back. A green leaf was on one of the branches, blowing in the wind. It waved around. That leaf was the only proof the teenager had that the tree was alive, and he held onto that. He used that as his main source of hope. 

"I know it's not how you imagined this to turn out, Greg," he murmured, "But at least we're together, yeah?" He gave a small smile to the tree. The leaf waved in response. 

He wondered if Greg could even hear him, or if it was just... a tree. A tree, sitting in the clearing. Alive, sure, but unresponsive. Just a lump of bark and oil and leaves. But the teen didn't like that idea. He believed Greg was still there, somewhere, still living. A tea kettle balancing on the top of the small stump of a tree, the rock facts rock nestled in the branches-- that's how the teen knew it was his brother. 

Because he was alive, just as he was before. He's alive. 

He lifted the watering can, and watched as it sprinkled around the tree's roots, as it forced the oil to trickle downwards into the earth. He continued this around the stump for a moment-- watering the roots and the earth, and even the tree itself-- until the water was all gone. He set the can down, and let out a breath. 

He lifted his arms to adjust the red cone upon his head, and ran his fingers through his hair. It was getting long. It was at his shoulders now, resting upon the weight-bearer like a bird. 

"Wirt!" 

He looked over upon the calling of his name, pulling his fingers from his tangled hair. A taller, and even a bit older, teenager came running into the clearing. A blue dress hung just past her knees, and her flaming red hair was messily thrown up into a bun. Her eyes, brown and fierce, softened upon the sight. 

"Wirt, why do you sleep out here? The mill is literally like a hundred feet away! Mother said herself that there's room for one more." She approached Wirt, stepping lightly with bare feet upon the dusty ground. 

Wirt looked up at her. "I guess I fell asleep guarding him last night. Sorry, Beatrice." He shrugged his cloaked shoulders. 

"'Sorry'? Don't say sorry, dumbo! You can sleep where you want to sleep. I'm just saying...." her voice trailed away, and her eyes trailed to Greg. There was a frown upon her freckled face, and she let out a small breath. "Just remember to take care of yourself, too, Wirt." 

Now it was Wirt's turn to soften, and he gave Beatrice a small, sad smile. "I know." 

Beatrice smiled back, but it was just as sad, and just as small. She stepped forward, gently wrapping an arm around the smaller male's shoulders. "Come on." She guided him towards the mill, and he didn't protest.

\---

Wirt had grown to see Beatrice's family has his own. Her mother was a kind soul, but he could see where Beatrice got some of her sass from. Her father was much quieter, but just as kind and outgoing as her mother. He reminded him of his own father that left him when he was only five. And her siblings... ten of them, there were, and Wirt wondered how her mother could handle eleven kids. He knew his own mother could never, with how much she worked and spent her time looking after just Greg. 

And the mill was just as it had been when Wirt had come-- before he and Greg destroyed it, of course. He didn't know who fixed it, or how, but it seemed good as new. It was almost magical. Wirt knew it probably was magical, seeing as how the Unknown was a different world in itself. He never did figure that out. 

That was another thing he spent hours pondering on. If he and Greg were in some weird afterlife or just in a different part of the world. It hurt his head, and he couldn't sit for so long on it. It gave him an existential dread that made his heart twist painfully and his hands grip tightly. 

Walking into the old mill now, he was greeted with already five out of ten siblings, running over and shouting his name. All bore the same red hair as Beatrice, and excited, happy faces. "Wirt! Wirt!" they cried, jumping all around him. 

"Pick me up!" 

"Come play chase with us!" 

"Wirt! Where were you last night? Tell us about your stories again!" 

"Ahh! Hey, Bella, Bernice... Baxter? Uhhh..." 

"Hey!" Beatrice shouted, and moved in front of Wirt to shoo her siblings away, "Begone, demon children! Go outside! Scoot! Give Wirt some space!" The siblings all ran past them, quickly, laughing and shouting happily. One had run straight into Wirt-- Buster, he was called-- and looked up, smiling sheepishly. He quickly went around to catch up with his other siblings. "Wait up, guys!" 

Wirt watched them, letting out a small amused breath. They were a handful, that was for sure. 

Beatrice's mother was sweeping the floor, singing a happy tune to herself. She turned when she heard the ruckus, and put a hand on her hip. "Wirt! My dear boy, you look hungry. Here, eat some dirt." She moved to pick up a plate, already made, off of the table. The father sat, feeding the baby, and looked up as well. He bore a bright smile. 

"Oh, uhhh. Thanks, but I'm not--" Wirt started, softly, but was cut off by Beatrice. 

"Yeah, he's starving. Come on, Wirt." She pulled him along, and sat him down at the table. Wirt sighed as the plate was set in front of him, but he smiled, anyways. 

"Thanks." 

"Of course, dear. Holler if you need anything!" The mother responded, and returned to sweeping. She hummed along to a tune. 

The kitchen was bustling, it seemed. The father was shushing the baby, who shrieked and babbled in protest. A few of the siblings were sitting on the stairs, talking to one another. Some of them ran in and out the door. Briona, the eldest, sat down to help her father. It was a busy, happy spring morning for them. 

And Wirt was starting to feel sick, staring at his food. All he could think about was getting back to Greg, before the Beast came along and chopped him up for the lantern. If Wirt wasn't careful.... 

"Come on, Wirt," Beatrice said, sitting next to him, "You gotta eat something." She pushed the plate closer to him, and her voice grew gentle. A small frown had appeared on her face. "I'm just looking after you." 

"I know." Wirt picked up a fork. "And I'm grateful, Beatrice. I am. I--I just..." he looked down. "You know I can't leave Greg for long." 

"Wirt, he'll be okay. He's right there. If anything happened, we would hear about it." 

"Yeah, but it'll be too late!" Wirt responded, and it came out harsher than intended. He took a breath, and let his voice drop some, "I'm sorry. I'm just tired, and worried... I-I thought we would go home, but...." 

"It's okay." 

Wirt looked at Beatrice. It was amazing how much she had changed-- she was tall. He was used to her being a small bluebird. And she was tall. He was only five foot two-- short, for his age and gender-- and she was almost five foot eight or nine. She was older than him, too, he realized. Only by a year and a half. She teased him for that. 

But it wasn't only the fact that she was human now. They used to despise each other, when they met. And Wirt was bitter when Beatrice was almost the culprit of their demise by giving them in to Adelaide, the witch. They learned to like each other, though. They worked together. Beatrice was like a sister to him. He was grateful for her, and grateful for her company. He was so broken, now. After he turned down the Beast's deal of putting Greg in the lantern, he watched his brother perish. He watched as he turned into an edelwood. 

Wirt couldn't bear going home without his brother. So he stayed. Beatrice and her family were kind enough to take him in, after he helped her turn human. 

They looked up to him as their hero. And he didn't know why. 

"Thank you," Wirt said, and it came out quiet. 

Beatrice smiled. "You don't have to thank me, dumbo. Now eat your dirt!"

\---

"....twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty! Ready or not, here I come!" 

Wirt smiled some as he watched Beatrice uncover her eyes and immediately begin strolling towards the basement door on the side of the mill. The siblings were playing hide and seek-- Wirt not included. He decided to just watch as the game played out. He knew where some of the siblings were hiding, and could even hear the faint giggle when Beatrice got closer to their hiding spot. 

She strolled around, opened the basement, and-- 

"Found you! Baxter, get out of there!" 

Baxter shrieked in response, trying to climb out as Beatrice pulled him out of his hiding place. Buster followed out too, giggling. 

Wirt smiled. He brought his knees closer to his chest, laying his head on the tree behind him. He sat at the treeline, Beatrice's dog resting next to him. He swallowed, listening to the chatter and the singing birds. He closed his eyes. He imagined Greg was out there playing with the others, hiding in the basement with Buster and Baxter.... 

"Is this seat taken?" 

Wirt opened his eyes and looked up to see the eldest child, Briona. She smiled, warmly. Complete opposites of Beatrice-- she was more like their father, if not, gentler and quieter. 

"Uhhh... here? I mean. No, it's not," Wirt stammered out, awkwardly. He scooted over, and she sat down next to him, watching her siblings run around. He turned his attention back to them, and watched as Beatrice picked up Bella, and swung her in the air. She was shrieking with laughter. 

Briona chuckled too. 

"They're uhhh... something else, huh?" Wirt asked. 

"Yes. They're a handful, sometimes. I'm sure they must exhaust you," Briona murmured, and looked over to Wirt with an apologetic gaze. 

"N--no, they... well, they do, but I really don't mind. In fact, I appreciate it," Wirt replied, keeping his eyes on the siblings. "They made me feel welcome." 

"They usually do," Briona chuckled. 

Wirt laughed along with her. 

They were quiet for a moment longer. Watching. Listening to the laughter. 

Finally, Briona spoke again. "What was your brother like?" She asked, and her voice was quiet and gentle. 

The question caught Wirt off guard, despite that being his main grievance, the main reason the family pitied him. He tensed up for a moment, reminded of his wrongdoing. And then, he relaxed some. He uncurled his hands as he brought his knees closer, thinking of his brother before he was turned to a tree. 

"Much like your siblings. He was..." Wirt paused, searching for the right words. "He was so optimistic. He always viewed things differently than me, and was always... doing ridiculous things. He was a light in this dark, dreadful world." He said this with a small smile, but it faltered. He realized that when he spoke, it sounded like Greg was dead. But he wasn't. Greg was alive. Greg was in the forest. Alive. Maybe not human, but still a living thing. 

"He sounded wonderful," Briona murmured, sadly, "You must miss him." 

"...I do," Wirt whispered. 

She looked at him. "I'm sorry." 

Wirt shrugged some in response. He looked back to Beatrice, who was being swarmed by her siblings, shouting and laughing, letting them climb all over her. For the first time in a long time, he felt a sense of loneliness overcome him. It was cold, and it weighed him down. He was... sad. Filled with a sorrow he couldn't seem to shake off, like how Beatrice shook the brothers from her leg. He was reminded of how horrible he treated Greg before he was taken into the Beast's hands. He was reminded of how he blamed all of his problems on his little half-brother, ever since he came into this world.

\---

A word. 

Brother. That was all little Wirt needed to hear from his mother to make him despise the baby she held in her arms. "Come say hi to your little brother, Wirt," she murmured. Happy, yet exhausted, and Wirt didn't understand. Being almost ten, Wirt didn't understand most things about the situation. 

He was so naive back then, staring in the doorway, peering into the hospital room, and filled with so much... spite. He glared. A stuffed bear in one hand, and a balloon in the other with 'it's a boy!' scribbled upon it... he wanted to throw the bear at his mom. Let go of the balloon. Run out the door and find his dad. He didn't understand why his mother came home with a new man, a new dad. 

He vowed to never call him 'dad'. 

He missed his own father. 

He refused to go into the room, for a moment, too. Instead, he stood there, stupidly gripping the balloon string so tightly that it made small red indentations on his palm. If he gripped harder, Wirt was sure he would bleed. 

All the attention was on Gregory, at the time, the squirming little baby in his mother's arms. He wasn't crying, just waving his arms around, as if feeling the new, different air around him. Nurses and doctors came in and out of the door, gently pushing Wirt out of the way and into the corner of the room. His step-father stood, mask and gloves on, but Wirt could tell he was smiling. 

Why? 

What was so great about a new brother? 

Wirt didn't remember walking over to the hospital bed to see his brother. But he did remember the car ride home, and peering over at the little baby next to him, sleeping peacefully in the baby carrier. A big, round face, a tiny nose, two eyes that were closed, little ears poking out from over the blanket... and a patch of brown fuzz, sitting atop his head. Tears burned Wirt's vision. He was so angry. He would never call Gregory his brother. 

A word. 

And Wirt was sure that his life was ruined at ten years old.


	2. the frog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter two woop woop!!! I'm trying rlly hard not to rush this story. I have plans for later plot points that include beatrice and the woodsman, and lorna, as well as some characters that I came up with, but I don't want it to feel quick and unorganized. let me know if this chapter feels like that. I feel like I'm straying away from Wirt's motives a bit, but uhhh. I don't know WE'LL SEE I GUESS.....
> 
> thank you so much for the nice comments and kudos from the last chapter!! they really meant a lot, considering I don't write that often. I'm still trying to figure out ao3, so bear with me. hope you like this chapter!! :)
> 
> word count: 2,354

Later that day, Wirt returned to the clearing and gazed upon tree-Greg who was, thankfully, untouched. No axe marks protruded into the branches, no oil spilled around around the stump. It was just Greg, the tea pot, and the rock. He approached his brother, and carefully sat down next to him. He pushed the watering can out of the way-- he forgot to bring it back to the mill-- and rested his legs where it had laid. He gazed upon the forest. 

"How's your day, Greg?" He asked, watching as a squirrel scuttled to a nearby tree. 

There was no response, of course-- Wirt wasn't expecting one-- but a soft, spring breeze blew by, carrying the scent of flowers and honey. 

It comforted him.

"Mine was... okay, I guess. Beatrice's family is nice. I wish you could see them." Wirt pulled some grass up from the dusty earth, and twirled it around his finger, watching the blade twist with each movement. It felt soft against his skin, almost rubbery, and he hummed.

No response. 

Wirt sighed. Of course there wasn't. 

His smile was gone now. "This is all my fault, Greg. But don't worry. I--I can fix this." He can't fix this. 

The blade of grass snapped in half. 

It was then that the bushes began to rustle. The teen looked up to them, and immediately sprang to his feet. He stood in front of Greg and stared, grimly, at the rustling undergrowth. Leaves shook. A twig snapped. Fear rose into Wirt's chest, and he almost retreated to the mill to get Beatrice, or her parents.

The rustling stopped. Wirt held his breath. Later that day, Wirt returned to the clearing and gazed upon tree-Greg who was, thankfully, untouched. No axe marks protruded into the branches, no oil spilled around around the stump. It was just Greg, the tea pot, and the rock. He approached his brother, and carefully sat down next to him. He pushed the watering can out of the way-- he forgot to bring it back to the mill-- and rested his legs where it had laid. He gazed upon the forest. 

"How's your day, Greg?" He asked, watching as a squirrel scuttled to a nearby tree. 

There was no response, of course-- Wirt wasn't expecting one-- but a soft, spring breeze blew by, carrying the scent of flowers and honey. 

It comforted him. 

But then, a frog jumped out. A familiar one, at that. 

_The perfect frog name... _"Jason Funderberker?"__

__The frog croaked loudly, and Wirt was immediately filled with an immense emotion of relief. The croak was so familiar, and reminded him of Greg. Reminded him of home. Loud, but comforting, and Wirt never felt more glad to see the frog. A mere symbol of familiarity and warmth that Wirt could get used to. He sighed._ _

__Jason Funderberker must've gathered the strength to hop away, when Greg was turned to a tree. Wirt was surprised the frog was even alive after the horrid, frigid winter he was exposed to. He was surprised he wasn't still hibernating, still waiting for the warmer weather when the other frogs came out. He must've missed Greg. He must've come back for him. Something Wirt wouldn't imagine coming back as a child-- to see his brother. The older smiled, and crouched down to hug the frog._ _

___Huh? Benjamin Franklin! ____ _

_____Hurry it up, Greg. ____ _ _ _

______Wirt hugged the frog tighter. It let out a long grunt in response, and the teen stopped hugging, smiling down at him. "I'm just glad you're here, detective Funderberker," he murmured, softly, "Though I don't know why I chose that name. I could care less for Jason Funderberker."_ _ _ _ _ _

______"Rorop."_ _ _ _ _ _

______"Not you, don't worry."_ _ _ _ _ _

______"Rrrrop."_ _ _ _ _ _

______Wirt picked the frog up and brought him over to Greg, where they sat down by the tree stump. He gazed out at the forest, peering between the dark trees, and continued to quietly think to himself. Jason Funderberker squirmed from his grasp, and turned to look at the tree that sat in the clearing. Greg. One of his friends. If frogs could look sad, this frog looked more dejected than ever, and he hopped closer to the tree, nudging it like a cat. Wirt watched with sad eyes, and then turned his gaze downwards, almost guiltily. He should’ve made the deal with the Beast._ _ _ _ _ _

______He should’ve saved his brother._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I’m sorry.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______No response._ _ _ _ _ _

______\---_ _ _ _ _ _

______The sun was still high up in the sky, the first day of spring going by uncharacteristically slower than Wirt thought it would. He walked through the woods, gazing about at the moss covered trees and the mushrooms sticking up from the dark, umber colored wood. He was only taking a walk, feeling the familiar woods along his hands and feet, the air warm, yet still somewhat cold from the departing winter._ _ _ _ _ _

______He trampled over loose undergrowth and bushes, letting his cloak fall just below his shoulders. But just as he was taking another step, he clumsily stumbled forward, flailing some until he fell into an ivy bush._ _ _ _ _ _

______He laid there for a moment, feeling the leaves tickle around his arms, and the exhaustion kick in. But then he scrambled, kicking and flailing until he was sitting up. The bush rustled with each little movement he made, but then he stopped short. He stared at the clearing ahead of him, the forest opening up into a larger, clearer area. Vines crawled along the unkempt ground, grass shooting up unevenly into the sky. He stared._ _ _ _ _ _

______A homestead sat there, and Wirt wondered how far away he was from the mill. Anxiety crawled in the pit of his stomach, and he lowered himself back behind the ivy bush._ _ _ _ _ _

______Clouds rolled over, dimming the ground._ _ _ _ _ _

______The cottage was small, but still a decent size. The entire thing was made of wood, and a big porch wrapped around in front. Wirt grew very quiet, watching it carefully._ _ _ _ _ _

______The door opened. A man stepped out._ _ _ _ _ _

______Another familiar face._ _ _ _ _ _

______The woodsman._ _ _ _ _ _

______He walked out onto the porch, and sat down on the bench that stood in front of the window there. He wasn't wearing his hat, or a coat. Just a simple button up and suspenders that stretched across his big shoulders. He slouched in the seat, looking tired and old. Wirt stayed there for a moment, surprised._ _ _ _ _ _

______He remembered the night when Greg turned to a tree. The woodsman had been unconscious during that time, but when he finally did regain consciousness, he was very upset…._ _ _ _ _ _

______\---_ _ _ _ _ _

______"What's wrong?" Wirt had asked, his own voice dry and filled with hurt. The Beast had gone, vanishing into the shadows. His singing that echoed upon the clearing was the only evidence that he was there. That and tree-Greg, and the darkness swirling, the sudden grief that overcame the Woodsman. It was a dark winter night._ _ _ _ _ _

______"T-- the lantern!" The Woodsman had cried, "Where is it? My-- my daughter… oh, Anna…"_ _ _ _ _ _

______Wirt winced. "I… I gave it to the Beast. I'm sorry. He… offered to put Greg's soul in the lantern…." His eyes burned. "I turned him down. I--I didn't realize…."_ _ _ _ _ _

______The woodsman gazed at Wirt, and he softened some. "Then you did what I couldn't do: let it go," he murmured, his voice warm. Tears rolled down his weathered cheeks, one by one, and Wirt realized something… why would the Beast take the lantern from the Woodsman? why would the Beast care so much about keeping the Woodsman's daughter's soul alive? Something felt wrong, and the teen quietly thought to himself._ _ _ _ _ _

______"I think you were tricked, Woodsman," Wirt had murmured. He stepped forward, and helped the older man to his feet, staring up at him with an expressionless face. "I think you should go home."_ _ _ _ _ _

______The Woodsman looked baffled. "B--but what about you?" He stammered out, eyes wide yet exhausted, "You need somewhere to stay. Come with me, boy." It sounded more like a plea, and Wirt had wondered if the Woodsman wanted company. Wirt had wondered if he had anyone else, besides his daughter._ _ _ _ _ _

______"I can't," he answered, simply. He picked up the axe, and handed it to the Woodsman, "I have to look after my brother."_ _ _ _ _ _

______\---_ _ _ _ _ _

______Later that day, Wirt had returned to the clearing bearing tree-Greg with this memory lingering in his mind. He brushed the dust from his pants. He looked at the frog, who lay there against Greg, eyes closed. He could imagine his brother as human, sleeping peacefully with an arm rested on the frog. But instead, it was a branch that was lower down the base of the trunk. Jason Funderberker was wedged in the crook of the branch, grunting some in a small exhaustion… occasionally letting out a tired croak. Wirt watched them for a moment longer._ _ _ _ _ _

______Then, he picked up the watering can, and turned to go towards the old mill. He dragged his feet across the dusty earth, until he came to the river._ _ _ _ _ _

______Beatrice’s family were mostly inside, now, and he could hear their voices from where he stood. He could imagine them sitting around the unlit fireplace… her mother bouncing the baby on her lap, the smaller children listening intently while Briona read a book to them, the older children playing a game, Beatrice sitting amongst them, thoughtfully chewing at her thumbnail (a habit that he noticed, but didn’t point out. He was observant like that). The father worked the mill somewhere inside. The dog, Scout, sat with him, tail wagging._ _ _ _ _ _

______Wirt bent down, humming in thought. He dipped the watering can into the river, watching as bubbles surfaced the murky gray waters, until he decided that the old tin can was full. He grunted as he lifted up the watering can, struggling to hold the weight. Wirt wasn’t exactly the strongest one out there._ _ _ _ _ _

______He turned, grunting some more, as he trekked back towards the stump._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Do you need some help?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Wirt stopped, and turned around to see Beatrice emerge from inside the millhouse. She had a small, mocking smirk across her face, one that was so very familiar to Wirt. He scoffed, but reluctantly let out a breath afterwards._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Yes… but not because I’m weak,” he replied._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Okay, greenbean,” Beatrice said, uncrossing her arms with a scoff of her own. She walked over, and gently took the watering can from him, carrying it with much more ease than he had. She strolled past him, moving with the grace of a bird to the clearing where Greg was. Wirt watched her, and then copied her scoff. He jogged forward to keep up._ _ _ _ _ _

______They came to the clearing, and Beatrice looked down at the tree. Wirt stepped forward, embarrassed, and took the watering can from her. He began to water the tree again, Jason Funderberker included. When he was done, he sat down, avoiding Beatrice’s gaze. He fiddled uncomfortably. She was frowning, he could tell. He didn’t need to look up to know that. They stayed quiet for a few moments longer._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Wirt,” Beatrice began, finally breaking the uncomfortable pause between the two, “We need to talk…”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“About what?” Wirt asked, but he already knew._ _ _ _ _ _

______“What do you think, smart guy?” Beatrice said, and gestured to Greg. “Wirt… this isn’t healthy. You should be taking care of yourself. It’s been six months….”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I’m fine,” he cut her off, “I’ve been taking care of myself.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“What? You haven’t eaten in days! I thought you told me that you moved on.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______He did tell her that. But that was a lie. He wouldn’t move on from this, probably not ever. He’s stuck with the guilt, knowing this was all his fault. He was stuck, knowing he was the cause of this. They could’ve avoided the Beast, the darkness that only seemed inevitable when first presented. And he would’ve blamed Greg for it, once upon a time. But the reality of it all… this was his wrongdoing. This was his burden to bear. He deserved every bit of this, and that was that._ _ _ _ _ _

______“How can I possibly move on, Beatrice?” he asked, voice grim, “I need to watch him. He--”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“He’s already been claimed by the Beast, Wirt! There’s no saving him,” Beatrice snapped, exasperated, “Edelwood trees are different. They… they’re not normal trees, Wirt. They’re not alive in the way that you think they are.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Her words hurt him, and Wirt could feel anger boil up inside his chest, threatening to spill out. But instead of standing up and snapping at her, like he wanted, he felt tears burn in his eyes. He closed them, but this only encouraged the tears, and they fell down his cheeks. He felt weak, and vulnerable. They were angry tears, sure, but they felt far from tough. Just a sign that he had given up. Just a sign that he let his emotions get the best of him._ _ _ _ _ _

______Beatrice opened her mouth to continue, but Wirt spoke first. “I...I’m not saying goodbye to him, Beatrice!” he yelled, but his voice cracked from the tears, “I’m not... I’m not leaving him! I’m not moving on! I was s--so w...wrong to… to him. I-- I can’t live knowing what... t--that I… I…” A sob escaped his lips. “Oh, Greg…” He sobbed harder, curling over himself._ _ _ _ _ _

______He missed his brother._ _ _ _ _ _

______He missed home._ _ _ _ _ _

______Beatrice was quiet after that, and she stared at him while he sobbed into the cold earth. He wanted to snap at her, yell at her to leave. He was only more embarrassed than he was before, now, and he wanted her to go away. He wanted Greg to go away, and he was a tree._ _ _ _ _ _

______He heard footsteps, light on the earth-- the grace of a bird-- and she sat down next to him._ _ _ _ _ _

______Wirt looked up, breath hitching with each inhale, forcing him to exhale. She gently placed a hand on his shoulder, turning him to face her, and then she hugged him._ _ _ _ _ _

______He never hugged a human Beatrice before, and it caught him off guard for a moment. His hitching breath grew quiet, before turning into another strangled sob, and he managed to hug her back. They sat there, arms wrapped around each other in a warm, sibling embrace. Wirt needed this. His breath calmed down, turning instead into a shaky exhale and even shakier inhale._ _ _ _ _ _

______They were quiet. Wirt listened to the birds and the breeze and the occasional squirrel chattering from up above._ _ _ _ _ _

______His breath had calmed down, and he felt a sudden guilt weigh upon him for yelling. He didn't mean to get so upset over it. He inhaled. Exhaled._ _ _ _ _ _

______"I can't move on, Beatrice. Not yet."_ _ _ _ _ _

______He looked at her, pulling away from the hug. She stared back, her face twisting into one of disapproval, and she opened her mouth. When no words left, however, she sighed._ _ _ _ _ _

______"I know."_ _ _ _ _ _

______And Jason Funderberker watched as the flowers swayed around them._ _ _ _ _ _


End file.
